Friday, October 10, 2008

The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste

Yesterday after school, Chase got into the car, and with an exaggerated roll of the eyes, handed me a sealed envelope.

"What's this?" I asked Chase as I pulled out of carpool line. "Are you in trouble?"

"No. But I think the envelope means that I have to do a whole lotta work," he responded with a dramatic sigh.

Dramatics, if you have not yet noticed, tends to be a recurrent theme among the children in our household. I know they get it honestly, but I really had no inkling when I met their dad, that falling in love with those dimples and blue eyes would lead to the type of theatrics that would one day flow through the blood of my offspring.

(See, what did I tell you? The male counterpart that contributed to the fabulous DNA of my children is rolling his eyes as he reads this. Such DRAMA…..)

(For those of you that know me, and recognize my tendencies to exaggerate, and wonder if I am now living in a dillusional world, understand that deep down, in the rational part of my brain, I KNOW where the dramatics originate. It's just that I like to make John's right eye twitch when he reads this while at work. Love you, John.)

Driving home, I opened the envelope to read about the increased work load Chase was convinced he would endure. With one hand on the wheel, and back up guidance from one of my knees, (oh, you do it too) I read the letter.

Through much testing and review of academic records, it was determined that Chase was eligible for the gifted program at his school. To qualify, he had to excel in two of three scholastic areas. His scoring was as follows:

Mental Ability: 99%
Academic Achievement: 97%
MOTIVATION: 59%

The summaries of his scores demonstrate in typical dramatic fashion that Chase is smart; he just doesn’t want to be. Follow up conversation with my gifted, yet unmotivated passenger confirmed my suspicions.

“Well it looks like you’ve been accepted into the gifted program. I’m so proud of you!” I enthusiastically relayed to my son.

“I knew you were gonna do this to me – make me into a BIG OLD NERD. First, you and dad make me accept the invitation for the Math Olympic team. And now you’re gonna make me do the gifted program. Why don’t you go ahead and yank my shorts to my armpits and put black tape around the middle of my glasses?” he said.

“Chase, you don’t wear glasses,” I corrected.

“Oh, but that’s coming. I know it. And when I get them, you’re gonna find some tape,” he retorted.

“In fact,” he relentlessly continued, “why don’t you go ahead and change my name to Urkel since we have so much in common.”

The incredulous look on Chase’s face as he ranted about impending “nerdiness” made me howl with laughter. It didn’t take long for my dramatic son to join my joy.

However, I am seriously considering a name change. Not for Chase, of course, but for my blog:

DRAMA MAMA.

Is it taken?

2 comments:

georgia mom said...

So, if you are responsible for Chase's dramatics--who is responsible for the brains?

Meritt said...

I swear I've had such similar conversations... and to be honest, I love the drama in conversations like this! They are hilarious and make parenting fun!! :)

PS: My family loves Steve. CK does a great imitation.